Through Another's Eyes
by brynhlldr
Summary: Zelda had little to act on to believe that Ghirahim was not the only surviving member of the race, beside the bokoblins he now fought alongside Link to destroy, and Zelda is unsure of the idea that Ghirahim has been left alive (GhiraLink oneshot, Zelda's POV)


His appearance in the camp had been unwelcome at first, and after overhearing a discussion between the two, Zelda had discovered the former Demon Lord had been just as uneasy to live amongst humans as the people were to live around him.

Most of the newly named Hylians were not informed that Link's new companion was not originally on his side, but they could tell that he and Link were not always as close.

For one, Zelda had noticed Ghirahim was usually a short distance behind Link when the hero stomped around the surface, waving a heavy looking sword as if it weighed nothing, chiding the young man.

Her former pursuer seemed to always look at him with hate edged with something more than someone simply bridled with a lazy sleepyhead of a hero, but when he slept in, Ghirahim allowed him rest.

She should mention that Ghirahim had not willingly become Link's companion. The word companion was more accurate than weapon or servant, as both hero and sword refused to acknowledge that Ghirahim was nothing more than something that could quite easily be thrown away and left to rust and decay away. Ghirahim had sought Link out while the hero was out, and Link had quickly agreed to being Ghirahim's master, as Ghirahim was falling apart as they spoke, looking like he would shatter and blink out of existence all together; or so Link had claimed to her as he had returned, Ghirahim a few steps behind him, hesitating. It was almost as if he was preparing himself to die at the hands of Hylia.

Not that Zelda could tap into Hylia's awesome power too much or for too long. Her body would simply burn up if she channeled too much of the sacred power at one time.

At first, Ghirahim had been quite reluctant on letting Link use his sword, and each time transforming into the wicked weapon. Eventually he had allowed the sword he protected to manifest and Link had Gondo craft a sheath to fit the massive dark blade.

How he was able to lift it surpassed Zelda's knowledge, and even Hylia was unable to provide any sort of help to her from memories she had unlocked during prayer after relentless prayer at the temples, bathing nude in the sacred water to cleanse herself, body and mind.

Ghirahim was one that got his way often, and he would go to any length to intimidate a villager simply because he was bored and found it fun. Even Link's hushed murmurs of orders were unable to silence the demon's snickered insults.

But, under all that had passed, time was grudging, and it was amazing how a year had passed since the fight that had decided the fates of the land and it's future. Would it have fallen if Link had failed? Most likely it would have burned again, leaving nothing behind but stories in the bedtime tales of demon children.

Zelda had little to act on to believe that Ghirahim was not the only surviving member of the race, beside the bokoblins he now fought alongside Link to destroy. She could tell the demon enjoyed feeling his blade rip through flesh, and Zelda had witnessed Ghirahim's almost orgasmic response of his sword digging into the flesh of a monster, standing away from Link as the hero hacked away.

The demon had stood with his arms spread and his spine curved. His voice was chilling to the bone. Ghirahim had moaned and sounds that sounded like purrs had ripped their way through his throat to echo in the stagnant silence of the desert. How he could stand the heat was astounding.

Link seemed to bear almost no cuts from his adventuring with the demonic spirit, no harm that she could see easily, but sometimes she'd see him in the morning and he would be only dressed in loose pants almost falling off his hips, dropping down to regions that tempted Zelda to want to see more of, but always stopped her when she saw the markings.

Clusters of bruises made their way across his hips and lower back, and scratches trailed down his back and arms. She knew that he had obtained them somewhere else, and she had always noticed he had seemed a little more lax, but tense still in a strangely satisfied way. Ghirahim had been the same way, eating breakfast in a larger amount than usual, and Link always seemed more tired, but they were always a little more prone to looking at each other for more than a quick glance.

It was not evading her that even though she liked Link, Link was obviously not into women. She could tell that he only had eyes for one person, and even though he tried to conceal it, it was there.

Link lived farther into the woods than the rest of the villagers, but still emerged at the communal meals. The only one who lived anywhere near him to that extent was Zelda, but she rarely lived in her own home, preferring to sleep in the temple to keep an eye on the sacred lands.

She had slept at home, and she had gone home, passing Link's first, and had heard pained sounds coming from within the wooden home, but there was the sense of twisted intimacy.

Odd, but the tense feeling between master and weapon always managed to wane for about a week, the bruises on Link's back and neck dark as storm clouds.

Time passed, and Link and Ghirahim spent more time in town, making sure everything was in order, Link gaining and abandoning a cloak as spring turned into summer, and gaining it again as fall made the leaves drop from the branches and father in piles on the ground that the small children (and a few of the school's students) leap through when they had been gathered up enough, and finally into the snowy season of winter.

Unlike Link adapting his forest green tunic uniform to the season, Ghirahim's outfit never changed, except for winter, when he was forced by Link to wear boots. The demon had given into Link's wishes the second winter.

She saw them exchange a public kiss under a bough of mistletoe when Yule drew near, and Ghirahim had smirked at his master, while the chosen hero had gone bright red. It made her smile in amusement of the silly antics.

Zelda had noticed the two had become closer, the bruises did not appear as dark and fresh as they had before, only sometimes they made an appearance on his tan skin, and the pained sounds she heard on the rare nights she slept at home had faded into passionate moans, the two smirking at each other as they chatted on over food, kicking each other under the table.

It was exactly a year since she had seen them kiss under the mistletoe that Link admitted to the other Hylians that he was never going to marry a woman, and that he had his lifelong partner already, and had taken Ghirahim's hand and squeezed it. They looked happy, and Ghirahim had looked comfortable, nowhere near the edgy demon he had been years ago.

Seven years to the day Link defeated Demise, Ghirahim knelt in front of his master and asked for his hand in front of every one of the Hylians in the village. Zelda herself had found a fiancé in Groose, and was keeping the secret from both her best friend and her fiancé that she was with Groose's child. She had just figured things out from a two month and counting stomach flu.

Six months later she delivered a wonderful baby girl, and Ghirahim had been oddly grossed out, Link laughing at the man that had become integral in the community.

Possessive bruises on Link's body were always present, and never faded, even after they had tied the knot. The electric relationship between them never truly faded, and Zelda believed that is why they were so tightly knit together.

Eventually Ghirahim had stopped marking Link, and watching them was a lifetime of excitement, and Zelda was sure that she would always have a spark of entertainment with her family and her two best friends, one of which had been completely unexpected years and years ago.


End file.
